Once Upon the Villain's Return
by IrationallyRationalCinema
Summary: It's been but a mere twenty-five years since Pitch Black was last locked away and yet he already walks free, seeking but one thing. Revenge. But when it turns out that Death is looking for him, things take an unexpected turn and he ends up locked in a scheme, with something far more than he bargained for. Rated T just to be on the safe side.
1. Chapter I

**Edited again, this is the revised draft.**

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><p>Chapter I: The Nightmare King's Revenge<p>

Pitch Black took in a deep breath of the cool, October air, feeling at peace for the first time in twenty-five years and thoroughly enjoying it. He was back. Someone had seen it fit to free him from his his seemingly eternal prison of fear. Who had done it and for what reason, he didn't know; or even really care. All he knew is that he was free already and he, quite honestly, couldn't believe it.

Sighing to himself, he took a quick look about the clearing and, upon seeing nothing of interest, took off towards the city of Burgess. He hummed as he walked, keeping a careful eye out for any Guardians that might be up to bringing happiness and light to children in the area. Luckily for him, the morning frost wasn't to come for a while, and Sandy had already finished providing dreams to the children of the city.

Though Pitch swore he could've heard someone laughing at him from behind some foliage more times than once, he made his way, smiling and happy, to the residence of the aging Mrs. Bennett, only to check and see if Jamie was still in contact with his dear mother. Oh, he wasn't going to hurt her, no. Why bother? The only crime she had ever committed was raising Jamie, and that was no reason to harm someone. No, he'd be content looking through her old mail, trying to find something to point him towards her son, that was if nothing had happened to strain the relationship between them.

Pitch spitefully smiled at the thought of Jamie. Now, there was someone he wouldn't mind hurting, he'd even go as far as to say he'd kill him. Shaking the thought from his head, Pitch crept towards a nearby desk, quietly rifling through its many drawers and compartments, reading over any and all envelopes. He growled to himself and tapped his foot impatiently as his search for anything that might point him in the direction of Jamie turned up nothing but old birthday cards and bills. He became increasingly frustrated, and surprised that the noise hadn't woken Mrs. Bennett, and was about to give up, when he finally located what he was looking for. It was just a normal envelope, for the most part, but, in the upper left corner was the address of Jamie and Candice Bennett. Pitch wasn't sure how current this address was, but is was all he could find, which he found odd. The few times he had seen Jamie and his mother interact, they had seemed fairly close.

He wondered about what had happened to push them apart for a fraction of a moment, then remembered the task at hand and quickly left Mrs. Bennett's house behind. Then making his way to a cozy one story house at the corner of Joyce Street and William Circle. Chuckling to himself, he forced his way inside through the garage and walked towards the back of the house. As he peered into the master bedroom, he saw two figures lying side by side in a bed. The woman had long, bright red hair, pulled back into a braid, while the man next to her sported a head of rich brown hair that was greying slightly at the ears. Candice and Jamie, Pitch figured. Pitch frowned, figuring that this was what had become of Jamie Bennett, and slipped his way into the room to get a closer look. He walked closer, leaning over the bed and angling his head slightly to get a good view of the man's face. Once he had, he shook his head and tried his hardest not laugh.

It was Jamie, alright and his face had hardly changed since childhood. Elated, Pitch grinned and turned away from the bed, trying to think of a suitable vengeance for being locked away for so long. As he thought, he saw something blue and glowing move out of the corner of his eye.

His interest piqued, he turned, coming face to face with a glowing, blue-faced woman floating in a small cloud of blue smoke. Her face was sharp and long, her eyes sunken with dark rings encircling them. Yet, for her somewhat frightening appearance, she still managed to maintain an air of childish playfulness, a trait that seemed even more disturbing than the rest of her.

"Who are you," Pitch asked, giving her an uneasy stare.

"I am called Pendulum and I am who the humans call the Grim Reaper. I am here because I am going to need to reap three souls in a matter of seven minutes. Two of which lie here," she paused, gesturing to the sleeping couple not far from them, "The other of which lies in his room, just down the hall. But it is by no chance meeting that you are here, Pitch Black."

"Oh really?"

"Indeed. You see, with the exception of immortal beings, such as you and I, there are four people in this house, only three of which are dying tonight."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"The fourth is the reason I have freed you, Pitch. She is going to need someone to look after her once her family dies."

"What?"

"I do not remember my words faltering."

"I know, but what? Are you expecting me to take care of a child? You're joking. This is a prank of some sort isn't it? I'm betting one of the Guardians is going to pop up any moment now and just laugh their stupid little head off, then stick me back in my hole in the ground. Am I right?"

"No."

"Come on now, really, you expect me to fall for this any further? Ha ha, this joke is so hilarious. You can all show yourselves now, I've figured out your little ruse."

"This is no practical joke, Pitch. Despite my often jovial nature, I am being entirely serious. I need you to take care of a child for me."

"Are you joking? I hate children, what makes you think I want to raise one!"

"This is not about what you want, Pitch. This is about what you are going to do, lest I decide to send you back to your imprisonment. And if even if this was about the things you wanted, I do recall you telling the newest Guardian that you wished for a family at one time."

"Alright, fine, I agree to raise this child. What next?"

"Then you raise her, for fifteen years. When that time is over, I will return and take her from you. And you'll be free to live out eternity as you please."

"E-eternity? As in I spend a mere fifteen years raising this child and I get the rest of time to spend as I wish?"

"To put it in a simpler manner, yes. You spend this trivial amount of time bringing up the girl and I can guarantee you freedom, for the rest of forever."

"Well then, let's meet this child."

She smiled, floating towards the hallway and gesturing for him to follow. He did so, but not before casting one last spiteful look at Jamie. Pendulum lead him to a room just across the hall, a nursery. Looking around at the room, from the changing table to the rocking chair and then to the crib, he could feel his mind filling with disgust. He hadn't bargained for a baby, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense, much to his revulsion.

Pendulum lifted the child from the crib and turned sharply, thrusting her into his arms. She had to stifle a laugh as he struggled to keep the baby from falling.

"You will name her Phoebe, if only to spite the Man in the Moon and you will keep her inside quite a bit. After all, you would not want the Guardians to find out about this." He nodded, finally getting a good grip on the baby and rocking her a bit to keep her asleep.

"Alright. Now all I have to do is raise her, right?"

"Correct, though I thought that was already an abundantly clear part of the deal." He frowned and took a deep breath.

"What about these other three? How are they going to die?"

"The gas line in the basement broke a while ago, and the furnace will be turning on momentarily. And their smoke alarms are unfortunately not working. I suggest you and Phoebe leave the premises, quickly. Neither of you are dying tonight."

"Fine. I suppose I'll see you again in fifteen years?"

"Yes. Now get out. You can watch the house burn from across the street, if you wish." Pitch grinned, swiftly grabbing a blanket and wrapping it about Phoebe, then exiting the house through the front door. He stood across the street and waited, wanting nothing more than to see the house go up in flames. As he waited, he turned his attention to the bundle in his arms, just now noticing that the child was awake.

"Hello there. I know I'm not what you're used to seeing, but you'll have to get used to it. Now, what are you doing awake?" He gave her a questioning look and she yawned, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. Startled by the warmth, he reached up and pulled her hand down, holding it lightly in his palm. She groaned a bit, grabbing his pointer finger and pulling it up to her cheek. She nuzzled it and Pitch, pleasantly surprised at this, let a small smile come to his face.

"How darling. I'm sure if I had any heartstrings, you'd be pulling at them," he chuckled, pulling his finger away from her, "Unfortunately for you, I'm only doing this so I can live for the rest of time and spend it building my kingdom of nightmares." She whined, about to start crying, and Pitch, realizing this, moved his hand back to her face. She latched onto his finger again and he huffed, rolling his eyes.

"Don't think you'll change me, child. I'm only being nice to keep you quiet." She smiled up at him, nuzzling his finger again. He sighed and shook his head, turning back to the house.

"I wonder what's taking that furnace so long. Pendulum sai–" He was interrupted by the house suddenly bursting into a flames, the sound exploding and echoing in the distance. He took a couple steps back in surprise and Phoebe screamed, quickly starting bawl. Once he managed to come to his senses, Pitch sighed and began rocking her back and forth to calm her down.

"Shh, shh, calm down. The explosion wasn't that loud. Shh, just calm down, you're okay. I can't say the same for your family, but you're okay." Once he got her quiet again, he looked back up at the house and smiled; it was already up in smoke, fire pouring out of every visible window and shrill screams coming from within.

"Music to my ears," he chuckled, as Phoebe whimpered and curled against her new father. He laughed at her and turned from the scene, beginning the walk back to his lair.

"What was it that Pendulum said I would name you? Phoebe, I believe? I don't know, what do you think?" Phoebe moaned, pulling at his finger and closing her eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes. Either way, I think it's fairly befitting."

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><p><strong>Like it? Hate it? Have a problem with it? Tell me in the comments section!<strong>


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II: Best Served Cold

Pitch remembered much of Phoebe's infancy. He remembered having to do all the mundane things a parent had to; like change diapers and stay up late at night trying to get a fussy baby to go to sleep. To be quite honest, it had taken almost a year for him to get over his aversion to looking after a child, but little by little she grew on him.

And from that time on, his love for Phoebe grew each day. By the time she was about to turn five, the two were nearly inseparable, so much so that Pitch had long forgotten his promise to give her up when she turned fifteen.

But he was about to receive a grim reminder.

Jack hadn't expected it. Hell, none of the Guardians had. It had been thirty years since he had last seen Pitch. Thirty years since he had last cared that he existed at all. And yet as Frost watched from the shadows of an old tree as a young girl ran about in a field running after small, black butterflies that the Nightmare King conjured up with his sand, he knew it was him. All he could really think to ask was how. How had this _thing_ have escaped so quickly? How could he already be back? And, even more importantly, who was the child with him?

Jack squinted at the scene, scrutinizing the child's face. He remembered seeing a similar face somewhere, but he couldn't quite bring a name to mind. Certainly the messy, unkempt hair was familiar, even if he remembered it being brown rather than blonde, and so were those big, round eyes; but he didn't remember them as being green, no, the color he remembered was different. He thought about it for a moment, but the realization didn't hit until she turned around, her entire face finally towards him.

Brown. The face he thought of had brown eyes, Jamie's eyes. She looked like Jamie. His heart stopped for a moment and he moved behind the tree, covering his mouth so the pair in the field wouldn't hear him shout. A few tears sprang to his eyes as a plethora of awful memories flooded his mind. At First the fire, walking through the ruins of the house, then sneaking into the morgue to cry over the bodies, only to arrive at the funeral and cry again.

Then, the worst of it all, finding out that not only had Jamie had another child but that she had disappeared, her body either missing or destroyed.

"Unless she was still alive," Jack thought, sneaking another peek at the meadow.

There was no doubt in Jack's mind that the child playing in the field was Jamie's missing daughter. Which lead him to figure that Pitch was responsible for the fire, and that made him angry. So angry, in fact, he wasn't even sure if it would a bad idea to just swoop in and fly off with her, if only to get her away from that... that _abomination_.

"What am I doing? Think, Frost, think! He'll fight back and then it'll turn into an all out battle and there's no reason to put an innocent kid at risk. Especially Jamie's kid. He'd come back from the grave just to kill you," Jack groaned and took a couple deep breaths, relaxing a bit.

"Phoebe! Don't go too near the forest, darling. You never know what could be in there." The sound of Pitch's voice immediately made Jack tense again, his body almost quaking with anger.

"But Papa, there's something over here! It looks like ice." Shocked at how close her voice was and even more so by what she said, Jack looked down and sure as day, there was a small patch of ice growing around him.

"Phoebe, get away from there."

"Papa, I think there's someone ov–"

"Now, Phoebe! You could get hurt!" The worried, parental tone that his voice took on made Jack sick to his stomach and he had the strong urge to walk out from behind the tree and give Pitch something to worry about.

Eventually giving in to impulse, Jack pushed away from the tree and moved out to the edge of of the field, clenching his jaw in anger. Phoebe stood about eight feet away from him, looking up at him confusedly, whereas Pitch stared on in a mix of shock, terror, and rage.

"Phoebe, get over here now, and stay behind me." Seeing the anger in Jack's face, the child obediently ran back to her father, and peeked out from behind his legs timidly, clutching part of his robe to her face. He gave a light smile and reached down to comfortingly press a hand to the top of her head. As he looked back at Jack, his paternal demeanor faded, replaced with an almost apathetic malice that seemed to bleed out into the air around him.

"Jack," he said, his voice low and threatening, "What are you doing here?"

"What the hell?" He asked, ignoring Pitch's question, "Was Jamie being dead just not enough for you, you sick son of a b–"

"Hold your tongue around my daughter, Frost."

"**Your **daughter? She's not **your** daughter. She **was** Jamie's, until you roasted him alive! So, did you keep her as a pet or a trophy you... you fu–"

"I said hold your tongue, Jack. I don't want my little Phoebe picking up on that sort of thing."

"She's not your daughter! If anything she should be with Sophie! You know, the girl you made miserable by killing her brother!" Phoebe flinched, tugging a little at her father's robe.

"Papa, I'm scared. What is he talking about?" Pitch looked down at the child, smiling and picking her up.

"It's nothing, darling," he said, glancing back over to Jack, "Just the raving of a lunatic." He threw Jack a sly smirk and turned his attention back to his daughter, giving her a kiss on the forehead. And this only made Jack that much more vengeful.

Forgetting Phoebe in his anger, he raised his staff and took aim at Pitch, preparing to blast his smug, stupid face full of ice. Pitch, taking notice of Jack's actions turned slightly, setting Phoebe down on the ground behind him.

"Go home, sweetie. I'll be there soon."

"But, Papa–"

"Don't argue. Go home and hide in your room. Don't come out until I come back." Seizing the opportunity, Jack fired a blast, which hit his opponent square in the chest. Pitch reeled back in shock, falling onto the grass and quickly throwing up a wall in front of him and Phoebe as Jack fired again.

"Come on, Pitch. Fight back! You never had a problem before! At least take the chance to go out fighting! Then you'll go back where you belong and she can go on living her life away from scum like you!" Pitch clenched his jaw at that, pulling his daughter close and slowly standing against the wall.

"Phoebe, you need to get out of here," he whispered, all too aware of the sound of grass rustling as Jack began walking closer, "Now, you remember the hollow tree you like to hide in? I need you to go there and don't come out until I come to get you. Okay?" She nodded, the sound of Jack's footsteps frightening her a little.

"But Papa, what about you? What if the ice man hurts you?"

"Don't worry about me, darling. Just go to the tree and don't come back, no matter what you do."

"What if I get scared?" Frowning, Pitch set her down and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Just think of home, sweetheart, just think of home. Now hurry, before the ice man gets here." Giving her a little push, Pitch brought down the wall and sent all the sand directly at Jack, creating just enough time for her to run off into the forest in fear. She had hardly made it to the tree when she saw a blue light, silhouetting her against the nearby creek. Frightened, she turned nervously to see a girl, a blue, glowing girl who floated a foot or so above the ground. The air around them seemed to turn cold and became heavy with the smell of flowers and smoke.

"Hello child. Do not be afraid. I will not harm you. And you need not worry for your father, he will be alright." Phoebe stared at the girl, both mesmerized and terrified.

"Wh-who–"

"Go back to your father now, Phoebe. By the time you get there, Jack Frost will be gone and will be able to see your him again." And with that she vanished, almost as if someone had turned out a light.

Confused, Phoebe rushed back towards the field and arrived just as Jack was carrying himself away on the winds. Pitch stood in the middle, sneering as he watched Frost fly off. As soon as she was sure Jack was gone, Phoebe ran over to her father, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

"Ph-Phoebe what are you doing here? I thought I sent you to the tree."

"Some lady was there. She told me to come back here."

"She? What are you," he gave the child a puzzled look, then thought better of questioning it, and held out his hand to her, "Come on now, dear. We have to get home quickly. Ice man is no doubt going to be back soon with help." She nodded and took his hand as he quickly pulled her back to his lair.

Once they made it there, safe for the time being, Pitch put Phoebe to bed, tucking her in and giving her a kiss goodnight. Then, he made his way back to the entrance of his lair, standing there and waiting for the Guardians to show up. He figured they'd be arriving any moment now, at least a couple of them. Maybe more.

As he waited, he heard a familiar sound. It was a shrill, little laugh. One he had heard a few years ago, when he first escaped. He tensed, slowly turning and jumping back in surprise when he he came face to face with Pendulum.

"Wh-what are you doing here," he asked, taking a couple steps back and frowning, almost concealing the fact that she had scared him. She didn't answer and instead glared at him, the air around them heavy with a feeling of rage and terror. Pitch, noticing this, backed away and just barely managed to avoid falling into the entrance to his lair.

"Pitch."

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you bring her outside?"

"Because she needed some fresh air. I didn't think anything was going to happen, alright? And I had checked the area—"

"I do not care! You should not have taken her outside in the first place! Fresh air, bah! She is not a plant, Pitch! She should need no more fresh air than what can be provided by simply climbing out of the lair for five minutes! Now, thanks to your carelessness, the Guardians will know about this!" She growled and angrily pulled at her hair, mumbling curses at him under her breath. Then, suddenly, she calmed. Her fingers disentangled themselves from her her hair, and her hands came down and delicately folded in front of her; her face relaxed and her expression going peaceful.

Pitch, afraid of what this meant, shrank away slightly, his eyebrows knitting together out of fear.

"Perhaps," Pendulum said, with a slight chuckle, "It might be better if I take Phoebe now. After all, you have already proved yourself incapable of keeping her hidden away from the Guardians. Perhaps it will all be for the better if I cut your time with her short and take her away tonight."

"What? No! No. That wasn't the deal! It was fifteen years, Pendulum!"

"Why, Pitch, it almost sounds like you care for her. Grown so attached so quickly, have you?"

"Maybe I have. But she's not my concern at the moment. My concern lies with the fact that you promised me an eternity of freedom if I raised her for fifteen years, not five!" It was a lie, even as he spoke it, he knew it wasn't the truth. And judging by the sly smile that formed on her face, he figured she was well aware of that. With another laugh, she slowly began drifting away from him.

"Alright, Pitch. You can keep her for now, but I will return for her in ten years. That is, if no further problems should arise." And with that she was gone. Vanished like morning fog.

And Pitch was left to wonder if he'd really be able to give Phoebe up come the end of the decade.

And even then, he could only hope that nothing else would go wrong.

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><p><strong>Like it? Hate it? Have a problem with it? Best way to tell me would be in the comment section below!<strong>


	3. Chapter III

Chapter II: Normality Interrupted

It was a blustery day at the north pole, and toy production was in full swing, as there was still much to be done in preparation for Christmas. Here and there the yetis rushed about, making toys and trying not to crush the elves underfoot. All the while, North sat in his study, going over numbers and munching away at a cookie every now and again. All was normal, for the moment at least, but soon after, Jack Frost came flying in, the full moon shining in behind him, and landed in front of the fireplace. He then made his way towards North's study, not even bothering to knock before he opened the door.

"How many times have I told you to—," North turned to face the other way and abruptly stopped speaking when he saw who had interrupted him, "Jack? What are you doing here?"

"You remember the fire that killed Jamie and his family?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"I know what happened now." North, with a concerned frown coming to his face, gestured to an open chair on the other side of the table.

"Tell me everything you know, Jack Frost."

"Gladly."

And so Jack relayed to him what he thought to be the truth. As North sat in his chair, listening to the young Guardian, his expression grew steadily and steadily darker, anger taking over his normally jolly face. Jack, knowing this was the reaction he had been hoping for, now decided to mention the small detail of Phoebe.

"You know, Jamie actually had two kids."

"What? But he couldn't have. There were only three bodies, Jack."

"I know, I know! And that's what I'm trying to tell you. His second kid was a baby when the fire happened and Pitch shows up now of all times with a kid who not only looks like Jamie, but is about the age his missing kid would be. Coincidence?"

"I don't know, Jack. That seems very far fetched. Especially for Pitch. He hates children."

"Oh? So you think he wouldn't?"

"No, Jack. I don't"

"Well, you're wrong. I saw her, North. She's blonde, green eyes. Spitting image of Jamie, at least in the face."

"You mean to tell me that Pitch has actually kidnapped a child?"

"That is what I've _been_ saying."

Without another word, North rose from his spot at the table and quickly made his way into the main room, then towards the globe's control panel. Jack followed him, gleefully hopping onto the railing as North sent out the signal for the other Guardians. And as the two waited for the others to arrive, all Jack could feel was an overwhelming sense of smug satisfaction in figuring that this would be the Nightmare King's final stand.

She grinned as she flitted about, looking happily from tooth to tooth as her mini-fairies flew past, collecting quarters, depositing teeth, showing her some of the more exemplary ones. With a sigh, she handed a pearly molar back to a fairy and turned to admire the sunset for a brief moment. But as she looked towards the sky, her smile faded and she took in a slight gasp of surprise. Confused, she took a moment to figure the date, then grew slightly more fearful. Whatever she was needed for at the North Pole had to be something very important for North to call the Guardians together in mid-November. Without so much as a look back, she took off, knowing better than to keep them waiting.

When she arrived, everyone but Bunny was present, and all wore dark, somber expressions. North nodded to her and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Jack acknowledged her with a slight smile and Sandy with a little wave. She glanced about nervously, wondering what was keeping Bunny, a question that was quickly answered with his arrival to the group.

"Alright. What's going on? What's happened? Why is he calling us here in the middle of November?" The rabbit looked fearfully around at all the faces of his fellow Guardians, searching their expressions for answers. With a grunt, North moved to the center of the room, clearing his throat to make sure he had everyone's attention.

"This is going to take a moment to explain."

"The you had better get to explaining, mate! Because I'm damn well ready to know what's going on here!" With a nod of agreement from Sandy, North sighed and continued.

"Pitch Black has returned, again."

"What? That can't be right," Tooth spoke up, looking around at the other's faces, "It can't be."

"Trust me, Tooth. It is. Pitch is back, and that's not even the worst of it," Jack said, taking a deep breath before finishing, "He was the one who killed Jamie."

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, mate. Jamie's death was accidental. I'm all for putting Pitch back in his bloody hole in the ground, but there's no reason to go around saying lies."

"Oh, you think I'm not telling the truth? Well, then, tell me, did Sophie ever tell you about her niece? Or did she ever mention a fourth body?"

"No, Jack. She didn't say anything about a fourth body."

"I'm guessing you don't remember, then," Jack said, getting up and walking over to the rabbit, "Remember when everyone left, and Sophie stayed behind to talk to us? Do you remember what she said? About the baby's body?"

Bunny froze as Jack spoke, thinking back to the day of the funeral, trying to force himself to remember. And then it all came flooding back to him.

He and Jack had been the only two to attend, simply because the others were too busy. He remembered talking to Sophie, and comforting her in the loss of her brother, sister-in-law, and nephew; and he did remember talk of a fourth body. Sophie had said something about it, about how they hadn't found the baby's body yet, about how there had been nothing in the remains of the crib. He shook his head in disbelief, trying to eradicate the thought from the front of his mind.

"Remembering now, rabbit? There was a second child in that family, and Pitch kidnapped her."

The room went silent and everyone sort of stared off into space, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Bunny was focused on how he was going to explain this to Sophie; Jack was mostly disappointed in himself for letting this happen; Sandy found himself worrying about how they were going to stop Pitch this time, and Tooth was left wondering if Jamie's child was at the very least alive. Meanwhile, North was busy devising plans to rescue this child and lock Pitch away, again. It was he who spoke up first.

"We should get her away from him. And quickly. Before he can do anything to hurt her."

"I'm all for it. And, seeing that it's the middle of bloody November, I think Jack and I are probably the only ones cut out for this," Bunny looked to North, who nodded, then to the other three, who all gave their silent approval, "Alright then. Jack? Where did you last see her?"

"A field outside of Burgess. Not far from his lair."

"Then let's get this done and over with. I'm not letting Pitch hurt a kid."

Jack nodded in agreement and the two quickly left by means of one of the rabbit's tunnels, Tooth and Sandy soon departing as well. North, sighing in slight frustration at the thought of not being able to help, turned and lazily meandered back to his study.

Meanwhile, in a small patch of woods somewhere in Finland, Pendulum looked to the full moon, her eyes wide with anger and terror.

"I knew this was going to happen. What a moron," she groaned and looked at the ground, soon taking in a deep breath, her gaze shifting to the moon again, "Thank you for informing me, Manny. I will see to it that Pitch and Phoebe evade capture."

And then she vanished.

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><p><strong>Manny getting involved becomes plot relevant, I swear. Anyways, like it? Hate it? Find something wrong with it? Leave me a comment and tell me what you thought!<strong>


	4. Chapter IV

**I'd just like to apologize in advance for the length of this chapter and the amount of time it took me to write it. But enjoy anyways, after how long it's been since an update, you guys deserve it.**

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><p>Chapter IV: Pertussis<p>

He stood in the clearing that surrounded his lair, pacing around the hole in the ground, keeping his eyes open for anyone or anything that might see it fit to try and attack him. It had only been a few hours since Pendulum had last spoken to him, and he hadn't gone back into his lair since, choosing instead to stay up through the night to make sure nothing else would go wrong. Needless to say, he was surprised when a sudden turn to his left found him looking into the face of death. He almost opened his mouth to say something to her, but something about the malicious look in her eye kept him silent.

"He told the others. You and Phoebe need to leave. Tonight. Your foolish thinking will not endanger this, Pitch. Now hurry and flee." That was all she said before vanishing again.

He, of course, wasted no time rushing back into his lair and waking Phoebe up, trying his best to calmly explain to her why they had to suddenly pick up and leave the lair behind.

"It's not safe here anymore, Phoebe."

"Why not?"

"Because. Do you remember the ice man from earlier? Well, he's on his way back here, and he has others with him this time. And if we don't leave now, they will try to take you from me. Do you understand that Phoebe?" She sniffled a little, not used to her father being so distressed, but nodded.

Then, as quickly and discreetly as they could manage, they packed what little they had and fled the lair; and only mere moments before Jack and Bunny arrived. They searched the lair, and the surrounding forest, but, obviously, found nothing. Both quickly came to the conclusion that someone had warned Pitch, but who, they couldn't be sure. They suspected that it had to be one of the Guardians, and obviously not one of the two of them. But who else could've beat them there? Neither was quite sure who and so they made their way back to the North Pole, the mystery at the forefront of their minds.

Meanwhile, Pitch found himself searching for a suitable place to keep Phoebe hidden away from the both the outside world and the Guardians. He knew he couldn't keep her too close to the city, but keeping her too far might make them more easily found. He eventually decided on an abandoned house, about a mile from a small suburb on the edge of the forest. It was crumbling, the bricks held together almost solely by the ivy that covered it, the inside crawling with small snakes, and bugs. It was clear to Pitch that this would definitely be temporary housing, and that he should probably look into finding somewhere more permanent for them to stay; but what would he do with Phoebe during that time? Take her with him? That might only slow things down. Leave her at the house then? Oh god no, what if someone found her?

He sighed to himself, sitting on the floor and laying her on his lap so she could get back to sleep. Looking down at her, he smiled and ran his fingers through her hair, humming her a lullaby.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll figure something out," he whispered, long after Phoebe had already fallen asleep. And so he picked her up and carried her to the furthest room of the house, into one of the corners; then sat down, letting himself doze off.

He woke up some time later to the sound of voices, not too far away. He was drowsy at first, but the familiar sound of a child's laugh snapped him awake, his eyes immediately going down to his lap, where Phoebe was still thankfully asleep. Pitch pulled her close, slowly standing against the wall and taking a couple deep breaths. They wouldn't come inside the house, whoever they were, he was sure of it. Even so, he gently shook Phoebe until she woke up, signalling for her to keep quiet. Not fully registering what her papa was trying to tell her, she groaned and whined, on the verge of tears. Pitch desperately tried to shush her, but she wouldn't hear a word of it and quickly began bawling. He picked her up, pressing her face into his neck, listening as the people outside began questioning the sound of a crying child. His heart sank as he heard a man call out to her.

"Hello? Who's there? Are you okay? We can help you," the man called out again, Phoebe's cries slowly beginning to die down. Pitch took a deep breath, thinking they might actually be safe for now, only to have his newfound hope leave him as the floorboards started creaking. He sighed and petted Phoebe's head, slowly setting her down on the ground. He gave her a grim look, and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Phoebe, listen to me, sweetheart. There is someone else here, and I'm sure you can hear him getting closer. Now, a lot of things are going to happen today and they're going to happen fairly quickly, so I need you to listen to what I'm about to tell you, and do exactly as I say. Understand?" Phoebe nodded, then proceeded to wipe her nose on her sleeve.

"Good girl. Now, the person that coming towards us is going to take you away from me. He is going to come into this room and he's going to grab you, and he's going to take you out of here. Now, I need you to stay quiet and go with him, alright?"

"But papa! I wanna stay with you!"

"I know, sweetheart, I know. But it's not going to do any good to try and stay. No matter what, he's going to make you leave. Now, don't cry, don't cry! It'll be okay. I promise. Just stay with the man until the coast is clear, then I'll come and I'll get you and we'll be okay again, I swear; but I need you to go with him right now, understand?" She nodded, wrapping her little arms around his neck and sobbing a bit more.

"Promise me, papa. Promise me that you're not gonna leave me!"

"I promise you, Phoebe. I'm not going to leave you with them. I'm going to come get you, I promise. Now, come here, give papa one more hug," he pulled her forward, hugging her and giving her a kiss on the forehead, "It'll be okay, Phoebe. You'll be okay." And so, with his mind sharp with fear, and his heart addled with sorrow, he let go of his daughter, both of them turning to watch as a tall, burly man walked into the room. He knelt down in front of Phoebe, giving her a warm, friendly smile.

"Hey there. It's okay, come here. I'm not gonna hurt you. Come here, let's get you out of here. This isn't a safe place for kids to be playing." She looked back towards Pitch, who motioned for her to go with him, and walked towards the man; letting him pick her up and carry her towards the exit. She looked back at Pitch, who simply smiled, despite the growing feeling of dread in his chest, as she was carried outside.

"Sariah! Come here!" A short, stocky woman rushed over, a wiry little boy of about four following her.

"My god. Was she in there?"

"Yeah, she was standing all alone in one of the rooms. I heard her talking to someone though. Not sure who. There was no one else in the house." Sariah gave him an odd look and reached out, taking Phoebe from his arms.

"Well, let's get her back to the house, we can call the police when we get there."

"You sure that's a good idea? I mean, what if she's an orphan, or if she was abandoned?"

"Then we should definitely call the police, Archie. And besides, I'm pretty sure we'll get arrested if we don't." Archie opened his mouth to argue but nodded, picking up the other kid.

"Alright, let's go and call the police then," he said, walking down a path. Sariah rolled her eyes and followed him, holding Phoebe against her hip.

"It'll be okay, sweetie. We'll find your family. Here, why don't you tell me what your name is?"

"Phoebe."

"Alright, what's your last name?"

"Last name? What's that?"

"Well, it's a second name that sort of runs in your family that helps people know who you are. I mean, there are thousands of Sariahs in the world but, because my last name is Fuller, that helps people know which one I am."

"Oh. Me and my papa don't have those."

"Your papa? Okay, then tell me your papa's name."

"I don't know his name."

"You don't? Well, do you know where he is?"

"Mhm. He was in the house."

"What?"

"He was in the house that the man took me away from."

Sariah looked down at Phoebe, confused as to how Archie could've missed another human being in there.

"Where was he in the house?"

"He was in the room with me. I'm not sure if the man could see him. He told me once that the only people who can see him are the ones who believe in him."

"Believe in him? What does—," she began to reply but cut herself off, jogging a little to catch up with Archie. She spent the rest of the walk silent, waiting until they were home to talk to her husband. The moment they walked through the front door, they put the kids down and ushered them into the living room, telling them to play with the various toys that scattered the room. Then, Sariah pulled her husband aside, relating to him what Phoebe had told her. And the more she told him, the more puzzled he became.

"What do you mean? You can only see him when you believe in him. What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Look, Archie, I don't know. But that's what she told me. I'm not saying she's telling the truth, but that's what she told me."

"Oh my god, but what the hell does that mean?! Is she being raised by an imaginary friend or some shit?"

"Archie! Keep your voice down. My best guess as to what's going on here is that her parents, whoever the hell they are, are obviously not taking care of her like they should and so she ran away and came up with this character raise her instead."

"Okay, so, what exactly are we going to tell the police? That she's abused or that she's a runaway?"

"Both! My god, why are you so hesitant to involve the police?"

"Because the police weren't exactly the kindest people to me when I got stuck into the foster care system, so why the hell should I believe that they're any better now?"

Sariah sighed and walked over to the phone, dialing 911 and speaking calmly as the operator picked up. In the meantime, Phoebe had grown bored with her playmate, and began to wander the house. She climbed a flight of stairs, finding herself in a hallway, a coughing coming from the room on her right. Curious, she opened the door, and there was a girl, roughly her age, sitting on a bed and coughing into her elbow. Once her fit was over, she took an odd breath, which sounded somewhat like a whooshing sound, and finally focused her attention on the open door.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Phoebe. Who are you?"

"I'm Regina. What are you doing here?"

"I dunno, some guy and some lady brought me here."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm not supposed to have people in the room. I'm sick."

"What's the matter with you?"

"I have whooping cough. Don't come too close, or you'll get it too."

"Are you going to be okay," Phoebe asked, walking up to her and giving him an oddly concerned look.

"Yeah, yeah. The doctor said I'll be fine in a few more weeks." Phoebe smiled and pulled herself up onto the edge of Regina's bed, giving her a warm hug.

"That's good."

"Yeah." Regina scooted away from her a little, covering her mouth as another coughing fit started. Phoebe watched on, both worried and slightly intrigued by the disease. She soon stopped, another whoop coming after, and groaned, leaning back on the mattress.

"Mom and Dad won't let my little brother in to see me. They don't want him getting sick, too, even though he's already been vaccinated." Phoebe nodded, though she wasn't quite sure what a vaccination was, and reached out to pet Regina's head.

"Are you bored without your brother?"

"Kinda. There's not a whole lot to do up here by myself."

"I could play with you!"

"But you'll get sick."

"I don't care.

"Okay! What do you want to play?"

"I don't know. What do you want to play?"

"We could play prince and princess. Wesley really likes that one." Phoebe nodded and Regina smiled, sitting up, then sliding off the bed. She walked over to a toy chest, coming back with a pair of plastic crowns, climbing back onto the covers and placing one on Phoebe's head.

"I now dub thee, Princess Phoebe!" She giggled and grabbed the other crown, putting it on Regina's head.

"And now you're Princess Regina!" She smiled and the two slowly began playing pretend, the blocks that scattered the floor becoming a castle, a toy dinosaur now turned into a dragon, out looking to shed royal blood. And they had quite a bit of fun, for a while, at least.

Their time together came to an end as Sariah walked into the room, quickly scooping up Phoebe and taking the crown off of her head, then leaving the room. Regina looked sadly at the door, a little upset at the loss of her playmate, but more upset that her step-mother hadn't even said anything to her, or even really looked at her.

Downstairs, Phoebe was quickly handed over to the police, who took her into the dining room and began to question her. They asked her all sorts of questions about her family (She said she had none but her father.), her home life (Pretty great, by her standards.), and how she had ended up in the forest (They had ended up there after an attack from the ice man.). And, while her answers seemed fairly ridiculous, she told the truth, to the best of her knowledge. It was a few hours before the police left, leaving Phoebe with Sariah and Archie until they could secure somewhere more permanent for her to stay, or perhaps find a living relative for her to stay with. And then they were gone as quickly as they'd come.

Then later that night, after the adults had gone to sleep, Phoebe snuck her way back into Regina's room, climbing up on her bed and shaking her awake. She woke up and went through another coughing fit before talking.

"Phoebe! What are you doing in here?"

"We didn't get to finish playing earlier."

"Oh, right. But I'm tired now, can't we play tomorrow?"

"No, stupid! My papa is gonna come get me before then!"

"You're gonna leave?"

"Duh! Your mom and dad did kinda take me away from him." Regina groaned and fell back onto the bed, closing her eyes.

"Well, I didn't know. But I'm too tired to play right now. Can't your dad just take you home tomorrow?"

But Phoebe didn't respond. Regina opened her eyes, and looked to the spot where Phoebe had been sitting. She was still there but she was looking up at something on the other side of the bed, her gaze glassy.

"Phoebe? Phoebe! What is it? What are you looking at?"

"My papa," she said matter-of-factly, looking over at her friend, "Can you not see him?" Regina shook her head but stared intently at where she suspected that Phoebe's father might be.

"I don't see anything."

"Of course you don't. You have to believe in him to see him." Regina gave her a questioning look, then closed her eyes, believing that she'd see someone when she opened them. And lo and behold, when she opened her eyes, there stood a tall, thin man in a black robe. Regina gasped, slightly leaning away, and Pitch smirked, holding his arms out to Phoebe.

"Come here, sweetheart. Your papa missed you." Phoebe giggled and jumped on the bed; but it wasn't enough to block the sound of creaking floorboards out in the hallway. Regina gasped and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"That's my dad! Hide or I'm gonna get in trouble!" Phoebe nodded and Pitch grabbed her, quickly melding into the shadows under the bed. Archie walked in a moment later, sleepily looking about the room.

"Sweetie, who were you talking to?"

"No one! Just some dust bunnies!" She nodded her head and smiled.

"Right, okay. Be careful though, I hear dust bunnies will bite you if you don't go to sleep." Regina stuck her tongue out at him and giggled.

"Okay, dad. I'll go back to sleep."

"Good kid. Night Gina."

"Night dad." She rolled over in her bed, listening as Archie's footsteps faded down the hallway. Once he was gone, Phoebe and Pitch came out from under the bed, her plopping back down on the bed. With another quick coughing fit, followed by a whoop, Regina turned to Pitch, and smiled.

"Mr. Phoebe's dad, can she please stay just for tomorrow, please?"

"Absolutely not. Come along Phoebe, we have to get out of here before some else finds out that we're here." Phoebe looked up at her dad pleadingly, inching towards Regina and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Please papa? Her mom and dad won't let anyone play with her."

"Maybe when she's not sick, Phoebe. But right now, I don't want you anywhere near her." She whined, wrapping her arms around Regina, her friend hugging her back. Pitch froze, just barely refraining from walking over and pulling them apart.

"Phoebe, please. I'll let you play with her once she's better, but you don't want to be around her right now. You'll get very, very sick."

"But I'll be okay! There's a thing called a doctor and they say I'll only be sick for a little bit!"

"It's true, Phoebe's dad, I'm gonna be better in about a week or so!"

"I said no!" The girls stopped arguing, Phoebe's arms falling from around her friend. But Regina wouldn't be so easy to give up. Without warning she screamed at the top of her lungs, the sound of footsteps quickly coming down the hallway. Pitch cursed, and scrambled under the bed, managing to hide just as the door opened. Light poured into the room, Archie rushing in with a baseball bat, looking around for any sort of threat.

"Whoa, what? What is it? What's going on? Why'd you scream?"

"Phoebe's dad tried to kidnap her!"

"Wait, what? Where is he?"

"He's under the bed!"

Archie gave the girls a questioning look, but dropped to the floor anyways, a little worried by what he might find. He was normally a more logical, practical kind of guy, but with all that had happened that day, he was more than a little willing to believe that he'd find something terrifying under his daughter's bed. And so when he peered under the bed, he didn't see much at first, but then there was a hand, the fingers long and slender, the color of it a dark grey. Archie backed away, looking over to the girls and gesturing for them to leave the room. Regina nodded, and silently got out from under her covers, pulling Phoebe along as she ran down to her parent's room.

Then there came a hissing from under the bed, and Archie gripped his bat, standing and backing towards the door. Pitch slowly crawled out, staring murderously at the man in front of him.

"You are one ugly son of a bitch."

Pitch sneered at him, choosing to say nothing in response. And so the two glared at one another, both trying to seemingly stare the other down. Then Pitch, deciding that this was pointless and he could've easily taken Phoebe away by simply moving into the other room via the shadows, blended into the darkness behind himself. Archie, more than a little scared by this, quickly left the room and ran back down to the room he shared with Sariah, where she had gathered all of the kids. He shut the door behind himself, putting the bat away in the corner of the room and reaching under the bed.

"Archie, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm getting my gun."

"What?! You are not bringing that thing out around the kids!"

"Like hell I'm not! This thing, whatever the hell it is, is as tall as me and can blend into shadows. I am **not** taking any chances."

"Archie, the sound of it's gonna scare the neighbors! They'll call the **cops** on us!"

Then Phoebe whined, putting her arms around Regina again.

"What's wrong?"

"Papa's grabbing my foot."

Archie backed away from the bed, the hissing sounding off again, and Sariah reached over, pulling both Regina and Phoebe towards the middle of the bed. Pitch, slowly growing more annoyed with them, came out from under, glaring at them. Phoebe sighed and climbed down from the bed, walking over to her father.

"Please, Papa? Can't I stay for just one day?"

"No, Phoebe. Not while that girl is sickly. Now, come on. We are leaving."

"Please?!"

"I said no! Dammit, listen to me, Phoebe. The disease that she has can kill you! And I'm taking no chances. Let's go!"

Phoebe whined and stamped her foot, but didn't fight when Pitch picked her up and swept her away. And the family sat there in shock, not at all sure what to do.

He took her back to the house in the woods, setting her down in the farthest room, where she proceeded to sit down and cry. Pitch sighed and sat down next to her, attempting to pull her into a hug. Grunting, she scooted away from him, putting her hands over her eyes and pouting. He smiled, knowing this routine, and moved a bit closer, pulling her up into his lap.

"Phoebe."

"No! I don't wanna talk to you!"

"Then don't, but I do want you to know something," He paused, waiting a moment in case she wanted to respond, "Do you remember that story I told you once? The one about the frog that ran away from home because he thought no one cared?"

Phoebe said nothing, but she did nod her head.

"Do you remember how scared he was when he was all alone and had no friends or family or anyone to even talk to?"

Phoebe whimpered in response, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Do you?"

"Yes, papa, I remember."

"Are you sure? I could always tell you the story again."

"No," Phoebe whined, standing up and hugging her father, "No! That story makes me sad!"

"Sad? And what reason would you have to be sad about the frog story? Did you forget how the story ends?"

"Yes."

"Well, it goes like this: Once the frog returns home, he finds that his father had been searching for him far and wide, over every mountain and ocean, through every storm and scorching day, all the father wanted," Pitch paused a moment, pulling Phoebe away from him and up into the air, "All he wanted was his child, whom he loved and cared for very much, to come home."

"Do you love me, papa? Like the papa frog loves the baby frog?"

"What sort of a question is that? Do I love you? Silly little girl! Of course I love you!"

Pitch pulled her in close, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and Phoebe giggled.

"Papa, how long are we going to stay here?"

"I have a feeling it won't be too much longer, Phoebe," Pitch sighed and pet her hair, "I don't think it'll be too much longer."

And he was right. It was only another couple of weeks, mainly spent jumping from one abandoned house to another, before Phoebe got sick. At first it was relatively mild, just a runny nose and a little coughing, but Pitch knew it would get worse.

December was quickly approaching, each day colder than the last. He didn't have a lot of choices, and the ones he did have were going to be risky either way. He didn't want to admit that he needed help, but what else could he do? His only other option was to try and wait out the winter, and hope the Phoebe wouldn't be dead by spring. But what sort of image would it paint if he were to ask for help now? He'd be made a fool of. But was his pride really worth the possible cost of his daughter's life? It was December 1st when Pitch finally made his decision.

In the quiet of the morning, while Phoebe still slept, he quickly made his way north, towards the North Pole. A giant knot of disgust sat in his stomach as he approached, and he sneered at the lights as they appeared. He didn't want to do this, he'd give anything to not be in this position, but he had no choice, unless he wanted to risk Phoebe's death.

"It's for her. Do it for Phoebe, Pitch. Do it for Phoebe," he mumbled to himself as he slid past the yetis that secured the perimeter. From there, he kept to the shadows, trying his best to avoid a run-in with any of North's helpers. It took him a minute or two to make his way to North's study, where the man was holed up with a plate of cookies. Pitch stayed hidden, collecting his nerves for a moment, and North continued munching away at a cookie, unaware that there was anyone else in the room. With an inward groan, Pitch stepped out of the shadows, standing just behind the Guardian, then, with a quiet intake of breath, he spoke.

"North. I-I need to speak with you."

North turned as Pitch spoke, giving him a look of confusion, his eyebrows knitting together.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

"And why would I consider helping you?"

"It involves my— er, Jamie's daughter. She's sick and she needs help that I can't provide for her."

"So you'd hand her over to me?"

"Absolutely not. Are you crazy? No, I'd offer my imprisonment for her care, on the condition that you tell none of the other Guardians that I'm here."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She contracted whooping cough, and, seeing that we've both been alive for a long while, I'm sure you know what that can do to someone her age without proper care."

"Alright, but I do have my own conditions."

"And? What are they?"

"Your imprisonment won't end once she gets better. You are to stay here, at the Pole, where I can keep an eye on you."

Pitch growled at the thought, his lip curling up and his hands balling into fists, only softening when he thought of Phoebe, lying cold and sickly in the freezing, abandoned mill he had left her in. So, with a little difficulty, he swallowed his pride and extended his hand to the Guardian, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"Deal."

North got up from his chair, reaching out and shaking his hand, but his expression remained cold and unreadable.

"Now bring her here."

Without another word, Pitch ran off, still annoyed that it had come to this but relieved to know that Phoebe would probably be safe now. He arrived at the mill to find that his daughter was still sleeping, and thankfully alive. Gently, he picked her up, kissing her forehead and bemoaning the idea of letting a Guardian anywhere near her. Then, reminding himself that it was for the best, he made his way back to the North Pole as quickly as he could, trying not to think of what might happen should his daughter die.

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><p><strong>And so tensions will now rise. Like it? Hate it? Did you find a grammatical error somewhere in it? Leave me comment and tell me what you thought!<strong>


	5. Chapter V

**Wow, it really has been forever since I last uploaded a chapter. Please forgive me for my absence. But, to in a sense, make up for it I have for you here another giant chapter, in which the plot may or may not start to unfold. We do get to meet the villain, though, and I'm going to be honest here, yes it's the obvious one. Subtlety is not one of my greater strengths. Sorry.**

**So, without further ado, here's chapter five.**

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><p>Chapter V - Tip<p>

Jack had been searching the area around Burgess for weeks, obviously resulting in an abnormally heavy winter, and so far he had found absolutely nothing to lead him to where Pitch had gone. He found himself growing increasingly frustrated by the day, obsessed with finding him, and getting revenge for Jamie, whatever he thought that may be.

Today found him sitting on a low-hanging branch of a tree remarkably close to Jamie's grave.

"It's amazing they didn't run into any roots digging there," Jack thought, rubbing his big toe against the cold marble stone. He sighed and lied back against the trunk, closing his eyes in frustration. He hit his head against the tree a couple times, then glanced back down at the grave.

"Don't worry, Jamie. I'll get her back for you buddy," Jack laughed a bit, mainly at himself, then jumped down from the tree, landing in front of the grave. He sighed and touched the stone, glancing over at Candice's headstone with a slight smile. He felt at home here, just being near his old friend, knowing that even though he was nowhere to be seen, Jamie was still somehow with him.

Then there was a sudden feeling of impending doom in the air and a hissing, like thousands of leaves sluggishly scraping across pavement. Jack froze, knowing what this presence meant, the smile quickly disappearing from his face as he turned around.

Looking down at him was Tom Fool, or so he was called in more recent times. It was rumored that he was one of the few to have predated Manny, and it was also known, from his constant boasting, that he was the spirit that the Celts had sought to appease at the time of the harvest so many centuries ago.

Jack refused to look any higher than the ground, terrified of Tom's ghoulish appearance. Most would be lucky enough to never gaze upon him, and those that would have the misfortune of doing so, even once, would forever wish that they hadn't. Below the waist, he was hardly more than what appeared to be a flowing red robe, two elongated white hands visible from the sleeves, and even below the neck the only thing that seemed even a little unsettling was how greasy his long, black hair seemed. But from there and up he was horrifying, his face was pale white and sunken in, bloodied needle like teeth stuck out from his shredded upper lip, his eye sockets empty, the black within seeming to bleed out onto the skin around them. And slowly, he spoke, his voice not unlike the sound of a distant scream on the wind.

"Hello, Jack. Are you upset again? I've noticed that you only come around here when you're upset."

"I'm fine, Tom, I'm just here to be alone."

"Oh, Jack! Why didn't you say something? Really, No one should be forced to suffer alone as you do. Why didn't you come get me?"

"Tom, I'm not sure what you just heard me say, but **please**, leave me alone."

"Come on, Frost. To be honest, I'm not even here because you're such an emotional wreck. I'm here because I've got a message from my sweet, darling little sister."

"Oh god, right. April. How—"

"She's more than a little upset that her precious love completely forgot to at least visit for a moment or two. Poor little angel, she's spent a whole day crying at that unsightly ferris wheel of hers."

"Shut up, Tom. Things came up."

"Things like Jamie's missing daughter?"

"Ye— How did you know?"

"Good news travels fast through the ranks of us non-Guardians, Jack. Especially when a certain... _Challenger_ of mine is involved."

"A little jealous, Tom?"

Tom paused for a moment, his jaw visibly clenched, but slowly it released, growing into a malicious smile.

"Wouldn't you like to know what your darling little prankster has been saying about you?"

"Fine."

"She wonders where you've been, if you're alright, and that she doesn't care that you're such a screw-up of a significant other."

"Is that all?"

"That she said? Yes. For you? Not quite."

"What else is there? Hmm? Gonna use your weird controlling magic to try and make me bury Canada in snow?"

"Oh, you think I'd need your power to pull a prank? That's funny, Jack. Try a little harder, you might just make me laugh."

"You know, considering that your voice is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard, I don't think I will. So, if you're not here for me, what do you want?"

"Jack, there's no need to be so cruel. I only wish to give you a gift."

"Hmm, somehow I get the feeling it's nothing I'd really care for."

"Oh come now, it's nothing too extravagant, just a little viewing of someone getting their appendages dismembered by a small explosion."

"Don't tell me you planted another bomb somewhere!"

"I did. And I swear, Jack, it's funniest to tell you. You make such a fuss about everything."

"You're sick. What if a child picks that thing up?"

"Well, I'd hope their parents never truly loved them."

"Tom, even you have to realize how disgusting that is."

"I do, but you see, I don't care. If you're looking for a trickster who wouldn't dare pull a prank with the slightest possibility of someone getting hurt, I'll direct you back to my baby sister."

"Ugh, you know what? I'm done talking to you. Do you know where April is? I'm gonna go pay her a visit before I get back to work."

"She's probably with Cupid and talking about how you neglect her, either that or she's at the wheel, crying because you don't love her anymore."

"Oh, did **you** tell her that?"

"Jack, please, have a little faith in me. I might be quite malicious, but I'd never hurt my sister like that. She's simply melodramatic, all females are."

"Right, anyway, I'm gonna go find her before you decide to try and make me watch someone die."

"Wait! I've got one more thing to tell you."

"What?!"

"A little green friend of mine was hanging around here—"

"Get to the point, Tom."

"He saw a certain foe of mine heading north with a small, child-shaped bundle sometime within the last week or so. My friend said he was heading across the border, up towards the lakes."

"He saw Pitch?"

"I'd believe so."

Jack clenched his jaw and grabbed his staff, standing himself up. He looked back at Jamie's headstone, then to Tom again and sighed.

"Have fun watching people die you sick son of a bitch," he said, quickly carrying himself off on the winds. Tom just watched as Jack left, an unsettling smile coming to his face.

Jack knew he should probably worry more about Pitch moving north, but he figured that with his snowstorms getting as bad as they were, he wouldn't be traveling for much longer. And even if he was, he'd be doing so at the pace of a snail; but Jack doubted he was even on the move any longer, especially since Tom told him it had been a day or two since Pitch had been spotted.

That in mind, he made his way deep into the woods of the south; towards an old ferris wheel that had been abandoned long ago and, for some odd reason, moved out to the middle of a forest clearing. He'd never quite understood why it was moved there or even how it got there to begin with, but he figured nobody else knew either, so he never bothered with asking.

Jack landed at the edge of the field, slowly approaching the ferris wheel, wary of every stick cracking and rustle of the grass. As he arrived at the base of the wheel, he looked around, searching for April and finding nothing.

"April? Where are you," he called out, soaring up onto the top of the wheel and looking down, "April!"

"Jack? Is that you," a girl looked up from between two spokes, giving the Guardian a questioning look, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off looking for my brother's one true love?"

She giggled at her own joke, pulling herself out of the seat she had been resting in and dropping down to the ground. Jack smiled and jumped down, landing next to her.

"Really, I should be investigating a tip he gave to me not five minutes ago, but I can tell now, I'm probably not gonna find much."

"Oh? And where did this come from? Because, I can tell you right now, Tom's laid eyes on Pitch all of once in his life, and probably would've fought him to the death if it ever happened again. Are you sure he's not just playing another joke on you?"

"I'm sure. His account was second-hand and right before I had told him I was coming to see you. He was just trying to make me ditch you, again."

"God, he has problems."

"I know, I know," Jack sighed and smiled down at her, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against hers. She grinned and, rising up onto her toes, gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I take it you didn't come here to insult my brother with me?"

Jack gave her a devilish grin and kissed her again.

"If I wanted to complain about Tom, I'd say it to his face."

"Well, trust me, Mr. Frost, if I had the sort of gumption and backbone that you did, I probably wouldn't have made it this far. Tom practically _lives_ off of treating me like a doormat, and anything less than complete compliance is met with stiff resistance and harsh punishment."

"Ugh," Jack sighed and pushed her hair back behind her ears, "Please tell me why you don't just leave."

"Because he's my brother! Blood and water and all that. And really, where would I go? There's nowhere on Earth I could actually hide from him."

"I know, I know. But being your brother doesn't give him the right to treat you the way he does."

"You've told me that before, Jack, but I promise, I'm fine. Besides, even if I can't hide from him, I at least have someone to run to when things get too awful," April said, reaching up and running a hand through Jack's hair, "You know, I'm kind of jealous that I didn't get some interesting new hair color."

"I'm glad you didn't. I like your hair," Jack laughed, pushing her dark auburn hair back behind her ears.

"I don't know, I just kind of wish I had gotten some supernatural makeover. I mean, really, I look almost the same way I did _before_ the moon started talking to me."

"I don't look too different either."

"But you _do_ look different. I wish I had turned beautiful or something, like Tooth did."

"I don't know. Manny's cool and all, but I don't think he can improve upon perfection."

"Stop it. And I mean that. I'm not perfect. Nowhere even close."

"But I think you are."

"Oh? Then the fairy's probably that much more appealing."

"Come on, you think I'd leave you for Tooth?"

"I don't see any reason why you shouldn't."

"April, please," Jack smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body close to his, "Any feelings I had for Tooth were gone the moment I laid eyes on you. And let's face facts, they were more platonic than anything."

April grumbled, looking down and pressing her forehead against Jack's shoulder. She mumbled something that wasn't quite comprehensible and, letting go of her, he gently cupped her face, tilting her head back up so they were looking at one another.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that."

"Ugh," she sighed, placing her hands on his, "I love you and your words of encouragement and your stupid face and- just- you. I love you, Jack Frost."

"And I love you too, April Fool," he leaned forward, kissing her, a sudden laugh coming from behind the two. Jack broke away from the kiss annoyed, but April just rolled her eyes, smiling over at a long-haired Japanese girl, who was sitting on one of the ferris wheel benches, a bow longer than she was tall in her hand.

"What is it, Yumi," she asked, pulling Jack's hands down from her face.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see how you were doing," she giggled, getting up off the bench and approaching the two, "I didn't think I'd be interrupting such a private moment."

"Oh shush! You knew what you'd be walking into!"

"What? I knew nothing... That I'll admit to."

April whined, her face flushing red, and hid her face in Jack's shoulder. Yumi laughed, looking over at Jack and smiling at him.

"And how are you feeling, Jack?"

"Why?"

"Because! I like making sure my friends are well and helping them if they are not."

"That wasn't what I was asking, but I'm fine, Yumi."

"Good. Now if you don't mind," Yumi came a bit closer, grabbing one of April's arms and pulling her aside. "I have something to discuss with her."

"Whoa, wait, what is it," Jack asked, grabbing onto April's other arm and pulling her back a bit.

"It's nothing you should concern yourself with, Jack. It's just a small mission."

"Manny's sending you on a mission?"

"Oh, no, no, no. Not the moon man at all. The blue girl, the um, the shinigami."

"Pendulum?"

"Yes, her! She asked me to do something for her."

"What is it?"

"That's the part she told me not to talk about."

"And you can talk about the fact that she asked you to do whatever it is?"

"I wasn't supposed to, but I don't see the harm in people knowing about it. So as long as they know nothing of what it actually is."

"Yet you're taking April with you?"

"I'll need someone to cause a distraction and I know I can count on her to keep things busy."

"You're going to use April as a distraction?!"

"No, no. I'm going to _ask_ her to be a distraction. Goodness, you act like I'd place my friend in danger without her knowing and agreeing to such a thing. You, ah, what's the English word for it again? Fool?"

"Yumi, all of us know that you know how to insult people in English."

"For the most part! But I've been trying to learn more languages for the past few years. And English is confusing. Honestly, what other tongue has words that look the same, sound the same and have different meanings?"

"Name three."

"Read and read, minute and minute, and lead, lead and led. I know my mother tongue has such instances of some words being said the same way, but English is just silly."

"Okay, you make a good point."

"Yes, you both have good points and are generally intelligent people. Can we stop tearing my limbs apart now," April said, pulling her arms away from the both of them, "Goodness. Now, Yumi, I'll do the distraction thing for you. Go to the lake and I'll meet you there in a moment."

"Hai. Thank you," Yumi smiled at her friend, waved to Jack, then took off, skipping across the field, then into the forest. April sighed and turned to Jack, kissing him again.

"Sorry, but apparently I have a little work of my own to do."

"Nah, it's alright. I should probably get back to what I was doing too. Hunting down jerks in robes, and all that fun stuff."

April grinned and the two kissed one last time before heading in their separate directions.

Then, far off in the mountains of the north, Pitch found himself waking to the sound of another one of Phoebe's coughing fits. Sighing, he crawled over to the bed, gently petting her hair as she gasped for breath. She looked up at him, sniffling as she did.

"Shh, it's alright sweetheart, it's okay," he smiled at her, smoothing back her hair and resting his cold hand on her forehead, "Everything's going to be alright."

"I-I'm scared papa."

"It's alright, Phoebe. I'm right here. Don't be scared." He looked down at her, attempting to seem hopeful, but with the newly formed rings around his eyes, he only looked tired. Then Phoebe sniffled again and laid back down, closing her eyes.

Pitch let his false smile fade, then rose from her bedside, leaving the room and making his way to North's study. He stood in the doorway with a scowl as North yawned, flipping the page of a book in front of him. He had been pouring over every resource he could find to see if there was some way for curing Phoebe, even going as far as to 'borrow' a few books from a library down south. From all he had read, there wasn't much anyone could do about whooping cough in the later stages. The only choice they seemed have at this point being to wait it out.

Then Pitch cleared his throat and North turned, taking a deep breath.

"What is it now, Pitch?"

"Anything yet, North? I'm getting a little impatient with how long this is taking."

"I suggest you start learning to deal with it, then. There's no cure. The only option we have is to wait and hope Phoebe will get better."

"What?! You told me you could help her, North!"

"And am I not doing just that?!" Annoyed, North stood up, glaring at Pitch and clenching his jaw. "Have I not given her a place to stay? And provided for her needs? Really, Pitch, if I'm doing something wrong, feel free to point it out to me, because I have done nothing but help that child, despite the hell of a schedule I have preparing for Christmas!"

"Oh, yes, please act like you've actually been pulling your substantial weight! You bring her food, and leave it to me to feed her, keep her warm, bathe her, and you're the one who leaves me to care for her night and day, no matter my own needs! I haven't gotten this little sleep since she was a baby!"

"Because she's your child! I'm doing the best I can right now, Pitch! My god, Christmas is in seven days; I don't have the time or the energy to worry about every time she coughs!"

"My god you are annoying! I knew I should've gone to the fairy, I knew it, but instead my child and I are trapped here in the freezing cold, with a man who eats nothing but cookies and celebrates the vestigial traditions of old pagan holidays!"

There was a coughing fit from the doorway and both of them looked back into the watery green eyes of Phoebe. Pitch sighed, glaring back at North for a moment and then walking over to her, holding his arms out to her. Phoebe walked forward, beginning to cry as Pitch picked her up. He pulled her head to his shoulder, gently rocking her back and forth, shushing her.

"Calm down sweetheart, it's okay. Everything's fine," Pitch said, shooting another look over at North.

"Th-Then why are you always f-fighting," Phoebe could barely choke the words out between sobs, and yet another coughing fit. Pitch, though surprised by what she said, simply shushed her again and pulled her close, quickly taking her back to her room.

North sighed and pushed his hair back, slowly sitting back down in his chair. He put his head in his hands and glanced down at the book he had been reading. A picture of a smiling family looked up at him from the page; a perfect, nuclear family, all ridiculously happy for being stuck in the pages of an old medical textbook. With a groan, North shut it and pushed away, almost angry at the picture for existing. Figuring a break might help his mood, North got up from his chair and left the room, making sure to close the door behind himself. From there he made his way to the globe's control panel and spent a while leaning against the railing, watching as it turned, smiling at the lights as they passed by.

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there when Pitch joined him, remarkably less angry than before. North glanced over at him, taking note of the rings around his eyes, and how sunken and tired his face looked.

Then, once North had turned away, Pitch looked at him, noticing how the wrinkles on his forehead seemed deeper, at how he seemed to have lost some of his color.

And yet, neither made a move to apologize; neither admitted any fault. They both stubbornly stood there, content to think that the other was wrong, and both too prideful to shoulder any blame. Regardless, the wasn't the first time Phoebe had seen them argue. She and Pitch had only been there about two weeks, and not a day had gone by without some other argument between the two. Phoebe had witnessed five of them, to their knowledge, but both figured she had probably seen more.

Many more.

Slowly, they turned to look at one another again, each taking a moment to collect their thoughts and work out what exactly they were going to say to each other. It was Pitch who broke the silence.

"North, I know we don't get along, I know we've never gotten along, and I don't care if we ever do get along, but we have got to stop fighting, for the sake of all of us. It's not helping you, it's not helping me, and more importantly, it's starting to upset Phoebe."

"I know. But if we're going to stop fighting, we're both going to have to at least try and get along with one another."

"I suppose."

"No, Pitch. Yes or no. Commit, or I promise you, the fights will continue, and Phoebe will grow up hating and resenting the both of us."

"**Yes, then**! My god, North, you don't need to use a damn scare tactic every time I'm on the fence about something!"

"Well it seems to be the only way I can get you to agree to anything!"

"And here we go, arguing again! Do you see why I'm cautious about this yet?! Because every goddamn time we even try and have a civil conversation it turns into another screaming match!"

"Because you're so damn wrapped up in your hatred and your insistence that we'll never get along, that we can't talk about anything without you having to make some sort of personal offense!"

"Maybe I wouldn't take offense to everything if you weren't constantly barraging me with insults," Pitch scoffed, reaching forward and shoving North back. North scowled at the shorter man, raising his hand to hit him. Thankfully, one of the yeti's came forward, saying something about an intruder. North lowered his hand, and nodded. The yeti left and North sighed.

"I suppose we'll finish this conversation later," Pitch said, still glaring at North. Annoyed, North walked over and patted Pitch's right shoulder with his right hand, nodding. He took a step, ready to walk away, but suddenly an arrow shot into the room, the trajectory suggesting that it came in from the skylight, piercing first North's hand, then Pitch's shoulder. Both looked down at it, then back up to each other.

Pitch screamed first, grabbing hold of North's hand and trying to pull it off the end of the arrow, to which North responded with pushing his hand forward and gripping Pitch's shoulder.

"What are you doing?! Get your hand off so I can pull this thing out!"

"Pitch, Pitch! Listen to me! You know who Cupid is, don't you?"

"Hahaha! That's a joke, right? Do you really expect me to believe we just got shot by Cupid?!"

"Yes. Now listen just a second longer. You see the feathers on the end of this arrow? They are not normal feathers."

"Then what the hell are they?"

"They are coated in poison. A poison designed to make people hate one another."

"Perfect, and I suppose the arrowhead that is currently in my shoulder blade is supposed to make people fall in love?"

"That's correct."

"North I do **not** want to fall in love with you. I'd really rather hate you."

"And you think I want to fall in love with you? But all I'm saying is, regardless of our feelings on the matter, we're going to have to pull it out by the arrowhead anyways."

"You've got to be joking, oh my god, this has got to be some kind of sick, sick joke."

"Well, on her part it probably is! But you know what, it's either we go on hating each other and fighting all the damn time, or we pull this thing out so we can at least **pretend** that everything's alright!"

"**Fine**! Pull the damn thing out then!"

North sighed and reached for the end of the arrow currently sticking out of his hand, pulling at it slightly.

"Hold on, hold on. Wait a second," Pitch said, looking away.

"What is it?"

"North, you're pulling a damn arrow out of me. I-I need a moment," he groaned and took a couple deep breaths, then looked back, "Actually, um, oh god, there's no easy way of putting this. North, do you happen to have any alcohol?"

"What makes you think I have any?"

"Just tell me if you do or not!"

"...I do. Why?"

"Because I don't want to remember this. If we pull out the arrow and we do end up falling in love or whatever, I don't want to remember a single minute of it. Nothing."

"Alright," North sighed, and gently pulled Pitch towards his study, the two awkwardly walking inside. North kicked the door shut and walked over to one of the bookshelves, moving a few books aside and pulling down a glass bottle, no more than ten ounces of a clear liquid sloshing about inside.

"Vodka? Really?"

"You were expecting champagne?"

"Fair point. Do you have a glass or should I just drink straight from the bottle."

"Just down it."

Pitch grabbed the bottle and struggled for a moment to pull out the cork, trying to move his hurt shoulder as little as possible. Once it was off, Pitch gave North a halfhearted smirk and upended the bottle into his mouth. He ignored the burning of the alcohol on the way down, but was a little harder pressed to forget his burning need for air. Soon enough, there was nothing left, just the raw feeling in his throat, and a spinning feeling in his head. Pitch swayed a bit, the only sound leaving his mouth being a groan before he blacked out.

He woke up the next morning, his head throbbing with a headache. Moaning, he rolled over, realizing now that he seemed to be in a bed. He pressed his face down into the pillow, whining as heavy footsteps slowly approached the bed. There was the sound of wood creaking as his visitor sat down in a nearby chair.

"Pitch, are you feeling alright?"

Pitch only responded with another groan.

"Well, at least you're living. I probably should've warned you, it's not a good idea to down even that little vodka in less than five minutes. To be honest, I'm a little surprised you're alive."

"You know this would've been nice to hear _before_ I passed out."

"I know, I know, but you're fine now. Hungover, yes, but alright."

Pitch sighed and attempted to sit up, laying back down as his head gave him a blindingly painful reminder that moving wasn't a good idea.

"I need to get up. I have to go take care of Phoebe," Pitch said, carefully starting to push himself up again. Shaking his head, North put a hand on Pitch's back and gently pushed him down.

"I already did."

"What?"

"Phoebe's fine. I took care of her."

"I thought you were still busy preparing for Christmas."

"Well, after you passed out last night, I figured you'd stay asleep for a while and I could probably push things off a little and take care of her for you."

"Y-You did that, so you could take care of my child for me?"

"Yes, and I figured you and Phoebe are probably going to be here for a while, and I should probably bond with her a little. So, you go ahead and get some sleep. I'll watch over Phoebe."

"North, I..."

"What? I can handle it."

"No, it's not that it's just— Do you feel any different?"

"Hardly. Why?"

"Because we got shot by Cupid. Aren't we supposed to be in deep everlasting love now?"

"I'd think so."

"And? Are you feeling absolutely overwhelmed with passion yet?"

"No."

"My point exactly. What happened?"

"Maybe we hated each other so much that the arrow's magic was just enough to make us get along with one another."

"I suppose. Ugh, you go take care of Phoebe; I'm going to sleep off this headache."

North simply nodded and got up, giving Pitch a pat on the shoulder before leaving, Pitch giving him a genuine grin as he walked away.

Then, off in some distant corner of the world, a man in a flowing red robe stood next to a floating woman dressed in blue and spoke to her of their plan.

* * *

><p>And there it is! God, I always love leaving you guys on a cliffhanger. So, like it? Hate it? Find some sort of glaring issue in it? Leave me a comment and tell me what you thought of it!<p> 


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